Separation of Swords
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Lancelot loses one of his swords during a battle with the Woads. The beginning of a lot of trouble... {Complete}
1. Part One

"Where are we going?" Lancelot asked Arthur, who was standing right beside him. Lancelot's horse pressed his head into the Sarmatian's hand, looking for another treat. With his other hand, the dark knight held his black stallion by his bridle. "Sorry, boy, no more apples for today," Lancelot said chuckling, playfully tickling the animal's soft nose.

Arthur smiled as he watched the natural interactions between his second in command and his large horse. "We'll be patrolling the wall to the east. Centurion Livius reported yesterday that Woads have been seen there several times. They could be responsible for the raiding of the villages that has been going on."

Lancelot nodded knowingly. "I heard some of the Romans talk about it in the tavern. I'd figured that you would want to go and see for yourself." The curly haired knight looked past the flanks of his stallion, watching how Galahad was trying to keep his mare steady while he threw his saddle bag over her back.

When Galahad's white horse suddenly stepped forwards, Lancelot's mount did as well. "Easy, boy. It's alright," Lancelot spoke to him in a soothing tone. Swiftly he mounted and turned around in the saddle. "Can't handle your woman in the morning, can you, Galahad?"

Laughter rose from the knights all around. Arthur mounted his white stallion with a grin on his face, while Galahad's cheeks flushed slightly pink. His mare started dancing around even more at the sudden noise around them. Jols quickly grabbed her reins before anymore trouble would commence.

Arthur kicked his horse in his flanks and in one long line the Roman and the Sarmatians rode out the gates.

–– 8 ––

Arthur and his knights didn't find the Woads, the Woads found them. Without any warning, arrows suddenly flew past their heads and Woads poured out from behind the treeline. Arthur immediately pulled out Excalibur, Lancelot drew one of his twin swords, the others unsheathed their weapons as well, as they urged their horses forwards.

Lancelot beheaded one of the Woads with a powerful swing of his right arm, while maneuvering his horse with his other hand. He felt how strong hands took hold of his foot. Quickly he brought his sword down on his left side, but the speed of his horse and the force with which the Woad pulled on his leg, unbalanced the dark knight. He fell from his horse, on top of the blue painted warrior that had grabbed his foot.

A scream tore from his throat as Lancelot felt how a knife penetrated his thigh. For a moment a red sheet veiled his vision before he rolled to his side on instinct, away from his attacker. Realizing he had dropped his sword, his hand went up over his head and he drew the second of his twin swords. Immediately a second Woad attacked. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Lancelot sprang to his feet and brought up his blade and plunged it into the man's stomach. Blood sprayed all over him as he pulled out his sword, while the man sank to the ground, gurgling sounds indicating his last breaths.

Hearing a sound behind him, Lancelot twirled around, just in time to block a large spear that had been destined to pierce through his back. Using the leverage of his sword, he pushed the spear down to the ground. With his free hand he grabbed his knife that hung at his side and slit the Woad's throat.

Three more Woads attacked and died at his hands before Lancelot was able to look around and take in the battlefield around him. All around him the fighting was dying down.

Re-sheathing his sword he looked around to find its twin. The pain in his leg suddenly made itself aware again as he took a step forwards. With effort he managed to keep himself upright as his knee threatened to buckle when the hot bolts of pain shot downwards and upwards from where the knife had been embedded and pulled out again. The Sarmatian took one look down at his leg and the blood flowing freely, and cursed out loud. He surveyed the field around him while he stood still, but he wasn't able to spot his second blade. Gingerly he took a step forwards and bent down to push a dead Woad to the side.

Arthur took in the mess around him, dead bodies scattered everywhere. He quickly counted the men still standing and was relieved to see all of his knights alive. Dagonet was tending to a wound to Bors' shoulder. Arthur hurried over to see if the big knight was injured seriously. He knelt down as Gawain and Galahad joined them as well. The Roman looked up questioningly. "Are you two alright?"

"Aye," Gawain answered, and Galahad nodded in agreement. "Bors?"

"A flesh wound," Dagonet answered. "He'll require stitches, but it's not too bad. A clean wound."

Bors' lack of answer seemed to contradict Dagonet's assessment slightly.

Tristan was the next to join the group of knights. He had gathered most of the horses and was holding them by their reins.

Arthur confirmed with a quick glance that his scout had come unharmed out of the fighting as well. He looked around to see where Lancelot was, the only one that hadn't joined them yet. The Roman commander watched in surprised as he saw his second in command limping across the battle field towards a dead Woad and pushing him to the side like he was looking for something. The Sarmatian knight let the body fall back and limped towards yet another body, repeating his ritual.

"What is he doing?" Gawain asked in surprise, following his commander's gaze.

Arthur blinked in surprise as well. "Good question…" He rose to his feet and started to walk towards Lancelot. "Gawain," he added without looking back but the blond Sarmatian was already following.

"Lancelot?" Arthur said out loud as they neared the dark haired man.

Lancelot looked around briefly but then continued to roll yet another Woad over.

"Looking for something?" Arthur asked, uncertain of what was going on. He didn't expect Lancelot to answer affirmative.

"Yes," came the dark knight's brief reply.

Arthur could see how a flash of pain crossed Lancelot's features as he limped on yet again. The Roman placed a hand on the other man's arm and held him back. "You're wounded! How badly?" He looked Lancelot over, but it was hard to determine whether the blood covering him from head to toe was his own or of the men he'd killed.

Involuntarily Lancelot watched down to his thigh where he had been stabbed. His pants were torn slightly and the wound was exposed. Red warm blood was seeping out steadily.

Arthur took one look before he turned around and yelled across the field. "Tristan!" Immediately he turned back to Lancelot once more. "Sit down! We need to tie it off."

Lancelot didn't protest as Gawain and Arthur helped him to sit down. Suddenly Lancelot felt lightheaded when pain seared through him as Arthur tore his pants further to get a good look at the stab wound. His face turned pale.

Tristan knelt down next to the threesome and took bandages out of the saddle bag he had brought with him. "Lie down, this is going to hurt," the scout suggested after one look at Lancelot's face.

Lancelot laid down with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"What were you looking for?" Arthur asked, distracting Lancelot from Tristan's ministrations.

"One of my swords…" Lancelot answered in a quiet voice. He opened his eyes again to look at Arthur. "I lost one, and I can't find it anywhere."

Surprise registered on Arthur's face. "Where did you lose it? Where did you look?"

"Everywhere…"

Gawain who had been standing next to Arthur looked around him. "We'll find it." He strode off towards where Dagonet and Galahad were helping Bors to his feet.

Tristan bandaged Lancelot's leg as Gawain, Galahad and Dagonet searched the field. Lancelot hissed in pain as the scout pulled the bandages tight to close the wound and stop the bleeding. Carefully, Tristan and Arthur pulled Lancelot upright. Tentatively, Lancelot let his weight rest on his injured leg to test its strength. He gritted his teeth against the pain but he could stand without any help. He looked around to see if any of the others had had any luck in finding his sword. An unsettling feeling nestled in his stomach as he saw that their search came up with the same result as his own had earlier. The sword was nowhere to be found.

Arthur stood up straight. "We have to get back to the fortress." He held up his hands to ward off Lancelot's protests. "Bors needs a healer, you need a healer. We are riding back," Arthur ordered, his voice conveying the finality of his decision.

The Roman helped Lancelot mount his horse, a pained expression lingering on the dark Sarmatian's face. "We'll go back tomorrow to look once more," Arthur promised, speaking softly, realizing the pain came as much from the knife wound as the loss of the sword.


	2. Part Two

**A/N: Kay does not belong to me, but to Emily. You can read more about him in her beautiful story 'The Truth', which you can find right here at fanfiction . net - her penname is FlowerGirlEM. I used Kay with Em's permission.**

Lancelot had not just looked for his second sword the day after, but every day they passed the field where the battle had taken place. He knew it would not be there, but he searched around with his eyes anyway. A feeling of sadness nagged at him every time. Life had continued as always. Lancelot joked around with Bors as always, teasing the burly knight every time he talked proudly about his Gilly. He made fun of Galahad when his mare went off on her own yet again. As always, he turned any and all practice sessions into duels. He still thrived everytime they engaged in battle even with just one sword. But not everything was the same, and not everyone was fooled by Lancelot's act.

Arthur walked through the grass that was glistening with thousands, millions of small dewdrops that had appeared in the crisp fall morning. The Roman had been searching the fortress for some time already for his second in command, but had been unable to find Lancelot. The Sarmatian's bed was obviously not slept in. Arthur had expected to find Lancelot's black stallion missing from it's stall, but it had whinnied happily when he had approached. Finally, he had spotted his best friend on the hill at the cemetery when he had climbed the battlements. It had taken a moment before he had been able to distinguish the contours of the dark knight from the shadows of the tree Lancelot was sitting against. Arthur had nearly reached him before the Sarmatian acknowledged his presence.

Arthur sat down quietly next to Lancelot, looking at the orange globe that was appearing in the east. The sun cast a warm glow across the graves before them, enhancing the eery sight of the many swords sticking out from the earth, marking the last resting places of fallen knights, lost friends. The light reflected off the blades which were shining like they were cleaned on a daily basis.

Lancelot's own sword – one of the twin swords – was sticking out of the ground as well between his feet. His hand was lying loosely on the black handle with the gold ornaments, his arm resting on his knee.

Arthur remained silent and waited until Lancelot would speak. The sight before him worried the Roman greatly. Lancelot's dark eyes had sunk deep within their sockets with fatigue.

"Twenty-one." Lancelot's voice was low but clear in the early morning air.

Arthur knew what Lancelot was referring to but kept silent.

"When will it end? Seven more until we are all killed? Or even more after that?" Lancelot did not attempt to hide the hurt in his voice.

"I don't know," Arthur replied honestly. "I pray to God every day that at least the six of you are spared. Enough blood has been shed." The Roman openly shared the grief that Lancelot was showing.

When Lancelot fell silent once again, Arthur asked, "Why did you come here?"

The dark knight closed his eyes briefly. He shook his head as to clear his mind before he opened them again. He sighed heavily. "It feels like it's closer to home than any other place on this island. So many old friends, so many lost friends…"

Arthur's gaze unconsciously traveled towards a grave at the edge of the cemetery, completely covered with grass, a long small sword sticking out. Kay's grave. A quick glance at Lancelot told Arthur that the Sarmatian's memories were on Kay as well.

Lancelot had been remembering all of the fun, sad, happy, special moments he had shared with many of the knights buried in front of him since he had sat down against the tree. Kay had occupied a lot of his thoughts. Only a few years older than himself, Kay had taken Lancelot under his wings when the Romans had taken him away from his parents, his family, his village, his tribe. He had been like an older brother to him. He had protected him. It had shaken Lancelot to his core when Kay was killed by a Woad arrow through his throat.

"Why did **you** come here?" Lancelot asked hardly audible, returning Arthur's question.

"I'm worried about you. You've not been the same the past week."

Lancelot looked up in surprise.

"You might seem the same from the outside, but not from the inside," Arthur continued. His eyes met Lancelot's. "I know you, my friend. Your heart isn't behind the jokes you share with the others. You haven't spend one evening at the tavern until the last jars of ale were finished. You've missed breakfast several times. The women throughout the entire fortress are complaining about your lack of attention."

A slight smile curled Lancelot's lips at Arthur's feeble attempt at a joke.

"But most of all, I've missed our talks while on patrol. You're there, but you're not really there…" Arthur's voice was thick with concern which was mirrored on his face.

Lancelot sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "I don't have a lot of home left. Only the pendant my sister gave me, and my swords… Only one sword now, less than half of a pair," he tried to explain himself. He rubbed his hands over his face, his eyes, the exhaustion in him growing, bringing his feelings closer to the surface. Arthur's friendship warmed him thoroughly, making his emotions even more raw.

Arthur pointed towards the graves in front of the both of them. "Each and everyone of them would be honored if you pulled their sword out of the earth and used it. Kay especially…" he said trying to soothe the distressed knight next to him.

Lancelot shook his head. "No. I know you're right, and if I were to pick any of them, it would be Kay's, but no. My father made these swords. I don't want another. I'll manage with one," he answered determined.

Arthur placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "I know you'lll manage with one. You're my best swordsman, even with only one sword. I don't know what else to offer. I just want you to find some peace of heart again."

"I don't understand how it could be gone, why it would be gone…" Lancelot said thoughtfully, shuddering with foreboding and cold.

Arthur nodded pensively. He had wondered the same thing over and over again. Gently he rubbed his hand over Lancelot's shoulder. "You've been here all night, haven't you? How about some breakfast? Something warm maybe to chase the chill out of your bones?"

The Roman pushed himself to his feet. Lancelot stood as well, using the tree for support as his cramped muscles adjusted to being used again. Slowly they made their way down the hill back to the fortress where everyone else was awakening as well.


	3. Part Three

**A/N: A big thank you to all of my reviewers! You are wonderful! LilyoftheValley4 – I've added a longer comment in reply to your review below :)**

* * *

Arthur had been right that even with just one blade the dark knight was his best swordsman. But after three weeks neither the Roman commander nor the Sarmatian knights could get used to the sight of Lancelot fighting with just one sword. It was the equivalent of Arthur fighting without Excalibur. Lancelot had all but given up on ever finding the missing sword and used all of the hurt and anger that had settled in his veins in performing his every day job with more vigor than ever before. 

His black stallion whinnied in anticipation as Lancelot led him out of his stall. Arthur had explained to his knights the evening before that they were to intercept a caravan further south amongst which was a Roman family, who they were to escort to a village which was a two-day travel to the west. Arthur had sounded eager to meet Valerius Romanus, a good friend of Pelagius.

Tristan rode to the front only two hours after the knights had set off, and pointed Arthur towards something invisible at the horizon. "The caravan," the scout said without hesitation.

Arthur stared ahead, but was unable to make out what Tristan was pointing at. The Roman glanced briefly to his side. Lancelot was staring far away in the distance as well. The Sarmatian felt his commander's gaze on him and turned around to face Arthur. A slight smile lingered on his face as he shrugged his shoulders.

Another two hours later, Arthur led a small caravan of Sarmatian knights, Roman foot soldiers and Valerius and Antonia Romanus and their son Larcius away from the large caravan they had met up with. Lancelot and Bors were riding directly behind their commander. The Roman soldiers were both in front as well as behind the carriage. Larcius was on horseback following the carriage in which his parents were riding, Gawain and Galahad immediately behind him, with Dagonet and Tristan closing the ranks.

With dusk approaching, Arthur sent out Tristan to scout for a place to spend the night. Only half an hour later, the scout returned, riding his mare hard. The knights immediately drew their weapons, knowing that something was wrong.

"Woads!" Tristan called out as he reached the front of the small caravan.

"How many?" Arthur asked, Excalibur drawn.

"Twenty, thirty, maybe." The scout sounded out of breath, indicating just how fast he had ridden to return.

Arthur hesitated for a moment. Too many to take easily with just seven knights. Going back was no option as the Woads would catch up easily. With the help of the Roman soldiers, they should be able to defeat them, he thought. He considered leaving the Romanus family with a few soldiers behind to take care of the Woads, but that would leave them almost unprotected if the Woads were to find them. "We'll go forwards. Take them as they attack." He turned towards the Roman soldiers, addressing four of them. "Stay close to the carriage at all times. The others of you go with us," Arthur commanded. "Larcius, stay close to your parents."

The young man looked about to protest, but Arthur turned away already. Larcius drew the sword that had been hanging over the shoulder of his horse, but remained behind the carriage carrying his parents.

They didn't have to wait long before the Woads fired their first arrows upon them, but the knights were ready. Tristan and Galahad quickly fired their arrows as well and the first Woad archers soon dropped from the trees that had been hiding in. Arthur and Lancelot were the first to charge forwards on their horses, Gawain, Bors and Dagonet on their heels.

The clashing of swords, loud screams of pain, and shouts of victory could be heard as the knights fought mercilessly. They drifted apart on the battlefield, all dealing with their opponents in their own ways. Arthur thrust Excalibur powerfully, Lancelot swung his single sword in a dancing rhythm, Gawain cut heads and limbs effectively with his heavy blade, Bors stabbed forcefully with his short swords, while Dagonet's broadsword struck his opponents mightily. Soon Galahad and Tristan joined the fighting on the ground as well, wielding their swords gracefully and deliberately.

Although in the majority, the Woads were no match for the Roman commander and his Sarmatian knights. The sounds on the battlefield turned to panting, grunting and groaning. Arthur extracted Excalibur from the stomach of the Woad he had just killed, readying himself for the next attack. When none came forwards, he looked around.

Lancelot was engaged in a battle with a tall Woad. Waiting for the right moment to thrust his sword through the Woad's defense, the dark knight was exhausting his opponent with his light footed movements and teasing assaults. A devilish grin appeared on his face when he saw the blue painted warrior stumbling with fatigue, dropping his sword ever so slightly, but more than Lancelot needed to finish his opponent off. Taking a step forwards, while dancing to his right side, Lancelot swiftly changed his sword to his left hand, surprising his opponent completely. The Woad's arm lifted up in an attempt to deflect the Sarmatian's sword, but missed completely as Lancelot slashed his sword upwards through the man's throat. Speechlessly, the Woad dropped dead at his feet. When Lancelot looked up, he met Arthur's questioning gaze from across the field. He nodded to confirm that he was unharmed.

Arthur surveyed the rest of the field to check on his other knights. At the same moment as he heard his name rolling through the air, his eyes fell on Gawain and Galahad who were standing next to the carriage. The Roman rushed across the battlefield, not liking the looks on their faces at all.

As soon as Arthur came to a halt next to the carriage, Gawain nodded to indicate to Arthur to look inside. The Roman cursed in Latin as he took in the sight before him. Antonia Romanus had been slaughtered, her chest cut open. Her husband's faith was no less brutal. A long sword had been driven through his heart.

Arthur stepped back from the carriage and looked around once more. He saw that Lancelot was making his way over to them already. Surrounding the carriage were the dead bodies of the Roman soldiers Arthur had assigned to guarding the carriage. All four of them had been killed by arrows, either through the head, neck or heart.

Larcius Romanus was lying unconscious next to the carriage as well, Dagonet bent over him.

"Dagonet? Is the boy dead as well?" Arthur asked, his voice strained.

Dagonet shook his head. "Out cold by a blow to his head, but no, not dead."

Lancelot strode over to where Arthur was standing, Bors and Tristan closely behind him. He took in the dead Roman soldiers and the unconscious young man. "How could this happen?" Lancelot asked angrily. "What about the husband and wife?" Without waiting for an answer, the dark Sarmatian moved towards the carriage and looked inside. His face went deadly pale, his body rigid. He had seen many dead bodies, many even mutilated worse than the Romanus family, but the sight of one of his twin swords penetrating a Roman nobleman's heart was beyond shocking.

Arthur placed his hand on Lancelot's shoulder, trying to convey his support. He could feel the slight tremors coursing through the Sarmatian as he reeled with shock.

Bors went over to the carriage as well, sensing that something was horribly wrong. A brief look inside was enough to understand what was going on. "What did you do, lad?" he said, addressing Lancelot.

Lancelot couldn't hide the pure hurt crossing his features at Bors' words.

"Oh Gods, I didn't mean it like that!" Bors apologized immediately. "Oh come on, Lancey, we know you didn't do **that**!"

Lancelot only nodded but remained silent. His gaze seemed empty as he stared at the carriage, not really seeing anything.

"We need to return to the wall. We'll sort all of this out when we are there," Arthur ordered. "Dagonet, Bors, Tristan, take care of the boy and the dead." He gently pushed Lancelot's shoulder to get his stunned knight moving towards his horse.

The entire trip back to Hadrian's Wall was made in near silence.

–– 8 ––

Arthur stood in front of the door to Lancelot's room, pausing for a moment before he entered. He found the Sarmatian seated in the window sill, staring outside.

Lancelot slowly turned his head towards the Roman, only jumping down to the floor when he saw what Arthur was carrying.

Wordlessly, Arthur handed Lancelot the second of his twin swords. The blade was still covered in blood. Lancelot held the sword loosely in his right hand, looking at it like he had never seen it before. Carefully he set it on the table against the wall of the room.

Arthur was the first to break the silence. "There is going to be an inquiry."

Lancelot started to open his mouth to say something, but Arthur interrupted him before he could speak. "You don't have to tell me, or the other knights, that you didn't do this. We know, all of us. The thought never even crossed my mind!"

"But still there is going to be an inquiry…" Lancelot spoke softly.

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, hearing the pain in his friend's voice clearly. "Larcius has testified that a man in dark clothing approached the carriage before he was knocked unconscious. Not exactly the usual dress for a Woad. And your sword was used…"

"And the Romans hate all of us Sarmatians. We are nothing but filth to them. Good riddance…" Anger poured out of Lancelot's voice even though he continued to speak quietly.

Arthur saw the hurt washing over the Sarmatian's face. He did not deny Lancelot's statement. When he spoke up, the pain he was feeling for his closest friend was evident in both Arthur's voice and expression. "I wish I could do anything to change this. I would do anything if I could!"

"When?" Lancelot tried to sound like he didn't care but he knew he couldn't fool Arthur. He hadn't when his sword went missing, and he couldn't now that his sword was returned to him.

"Soon. I'll let you know." Knowing that words would not help any, Arthur stepped forwards and briefly enveloped Lancelot in a tight embrace. "Get some rest," the Roman urged with concern as he left the room.

Lancelot stood staring at the door as Arthur closed the door. Without a second thought, he picked up the nearest object, a water bowl, and threw it with force against the wall. The sound reverberated for a long time.

The sound rang on in Arthur's ears for a long time as well. He understood what Lancelot was going through. His heart welled with pain and sympathy for the man he loved like a brother.

Inside the room, Lancelot suppressed his flaring temper and the urge to give every other item around him the same treatment as the water bowl.

* * *

Hi LilyoftheValley4! Your comment certainly made me think :) Because, to be honest, I never even thought that much about putting Lancelot in the graveyard, but I can completely follow your reasoning, which makes a lot of sense. So what can I say…:) Maybe Lancelot feels close to home at the cemetery because his Sarmatian 'brothers' are physically there. But after his death he didn't want to feel **close to** home – he actually wanted to **go home**. And he could accomplish that by having Arthur and his fellow knights cast his ashes to a strong east wind which would carry him back to his homeland. Would that make any sense to you as well? I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story :) Tri


	4. Part Four

Lancelot was sitting on his bed, fully dressed, his armour in place, the only light in the room coming from the small oil lamp burning on the table. He busied himself with cleaning his sword, the one that had been used to kill the Romanus family. He had cleaned it the previous evening as well, and the evening before that. It was already shining, with no traces of blood left, but the dark knight didn't relinquish his labour of cleaning the blade. No matter how much he polished it, he couldn't get rid of the bad vibes surrounding it.

Ire, rage, fury were burning inside of him, but he knew he had to control his temper for just a little while longer. He felt like hitting something, throwing anything. He had wrapped black clothes around both of his hands as his knuckles were already raw and bruised from the many times he had hit his solid wooden door or the stone walls. But right now he didn't want to alert anyone in the fortress to the fact that he was wide awake even though it was in the middle of the night. So he kept himself occupied with cleaning the already clean sword.

He hadn't expected much of the inquiry. His long experience with the Romans told him that they were all talk, no action. Especially not since they were working on the assumption that he was guilty of murdering the Romanuses, despite Arthur's best attempts to convince them otherwise, despite all the other knights testifying that he had not gone anywhere near the carriage during the battle. The Romans had asked the others how they could be so certain if they were involved in fierce fighting themselves? The underlying threat of being accused of being his accomplishes in the murders had silenced his fellow knights effectively. Of course, he had all heard this from his brothers-in-arms themselves, because no one had asked his opinion about what had occurred yet. Although that might be best, he considered, because he wasn't so certain that he would be able to control his anger and his temper when faced with those bloody Romans, arrogant fools. He wasn't sure though why he hadn't been asked to tell his 'side' of the story. He wouldn't put it behind Arthur to attempt to protect him against himself in such a way. Lancelot smiled slightly in the dark. That was definitely something Arthur would do for him.

He hadn't even seen much of Arthur, who was more busy with the inquiry than anything else. He knew that. And he was grateful for it. As he was grateful that Arthur did seek him out every evening. To lend him his unwavering support. To offer a listening ear. To give him a target on which to unleash his seething anger.

He had spent most of his time in his room, angry, brooding, not in the mood for company. On the first day after the Romanus family had been killed, Gawain and Galahad had come to his room and convinced him to come with them to the tavern for dinner, ale and games. They had said that he needed some fresh air and a change of environment to clear his thoughts. The air in the tavern had turned foul the moment he had entered. Conversations had died down at first, but started up again soon. He caught many a word along the meaning of murderer, traitor. He had stayed through dinner, feeling the stares of Roman soldiers burning into his back. He had retreated to his room without a word, none of his fellow knights stopping him. He felt like an outcast. His blood had been boiling by the time he had reached his room. Somehow Arthur had found his way there only minutes later. His chair hadn't survived the assault of being thrown against the wall as the older man had tried to calm him down a little. The pity and pain in his commander's eyes had only fueled his fury further.

On the second day he knew that Gawain and Galahad had been right, that he did need some fresh air to clear his head and collect his thoughts. He had gone to the stables early in the morning, and saddled his black stallion for a ride outside the fortress. The Roman guards at the gates had refused to open them. Jols had already sent someone to alert Arthur, and his commander had interfered before he could kill the guards at the gates with his twin swords. Arthur was the one that had told him then that he wasn't allowed to leave. He had clenched his teeth, not wanting to blame his closest friend and she knew Arthur was only helping him. He had stalked off, back to his room, his body shaking with raving rage. Slamming the door shut, he had conveyed clearly to Arthur and his fellow knights to keep their distance. He hadn't slept at all during the night after that day.

On the third day he had joined his fellow knights for breakfast. He had been quiet, unusually quiet. He had been too absorbed in his own thoughts to be aware of how much it unnerved his friends. That day he had made the decision that he couldn't take it anymore, the decision to find out for himself what had happened. It was obvious to him that the Romans, with the exception of Arthur, were not seeking the truth. He had stayed in his room all day, not speaking with anyone. He had heard several knocks on his door, first Gawain and Galahad, later Dagonet, then Tristan, all concerned about him, but he had not answered. When Arthur came in the evening, he opened his door, knowing that the Roman would break it down or kick it in, out of concern for him, if he didn't respond. They had talked for a little while, but he hadn't really felt like talking. The worry etched on Arthur's face hadn't escaped him, but he had bit his tongue and not told the older man about his decision.

Finally the light of the moon appeared from behind the clouds, casting a veiled light into his room. He sheathed the shining sword in his hand in the scabbard on his back, rejoining the twin swords for the first time since it had been returned to him. He stood up, threw his saddle bag over his shoulder, and walked towards the door to his room. He opened it slowly, and looked up and down the hallway first, before stepping outside. He closed the door behind him again, careful not to make a sound.

Lancelot arrived at the stables without meeting anyone. The dark Sarmatian opened the door to his stallion's stall, and quickly proceeded to saddle him. It was like the big horse realized that he too had to keep quiet as not to alarm anyone to his rider's presence within the stables. Lancelot stroked the neck of the black horse tenderly. "Good boy. You won't mind stretching your legs a bit either, will you?" He checked one more time whether he had everything he needed before he led his mount out off the stall.

Lancelot's hand went to the swords at his back instantly as he saw a figure looming up next to him. He halted the movement, but his hand remained on the hilt of his sword when he recognized Galahad leading his white horse out of the stall next to his own. Immediately he noticed that Galahad was dressed in his armour, alike himself. For once, the curly haired Sarmatian was stunned into silence. He just stared as the youngest of the knights directed a crooked grin at him.

"Arthur asked us to hold watch at the stables every night. Two of us have been here each night, ready to leave, with our horses ready as well," Galahad explained, amused by the perplexed look on the dark knight's face. "I guess Arthur knows you better than you know yourself," he chuckled while mounting his horse.

Lancelot swiftly mounted as well.

Galahad kicked his horse in her flanks briefly to follow Lancelot and his black stallion out of the stables. "How do you intend to get out?" he asked curiously.

"The old way," Lancelot answered, speaking up for the first time. After living in the fortress for more than ten years, he knew all ins and outs better than most.

Galahad followed quietly.

Soon they were outside the walls of the fortress. Lancelot kept them in the shadow of the walls for as long as possible, before he urged his horse on to more speed, galloping away from the fortress at a slow pace to keep the sounds of the hooves to a minimum, although they were barely visible in the hazy light that the moon provided.

Galahad caught up with Lancelot easily. They rode together, side by side, in silence at first. When they were far enough from the wall, Galahad turned sideways to glance at Lancelot. The other man looked weary and drawn, but with a determined look on his face. "Where are we going?" he asked in a low voice.

"To pay a visit to the Woads," came the calm reply.

"What?"

Lancelot repeated his answer. "To pay a visit to the Woads."

"I heard you the first time!" Galahad replied in exasperation.

Lancelot spurred his horse on to full speed, galloping off, away from the younger knight.

"Lancelot!"

Galahad shook his head and went after the dark knight.


	5. Part Five

They rode together in the dark in silence. Galahad sensed that Lancelot was deep in thought. He had many questions, but he thought it best not to disturb the older man. At the same time the dark knight kept a sharp eye on their surroundings.

A chill went down Galahad's spine as they entered the forests. Even less light from the moon penetrated the forest and they had to slow down and continue at a leisurely step. It felt like they had ridden for hours when suddenly Lancelot slowed down and let his stallion fall back until he was riding next to Galahad.

"We're surrounded by Woads," Lancelot whispered to Galahad.

Galahad looked around but didn't see anything but darkness. Unconsciously, his hand went to his sword that was hanging down the right side of his horse.

Soon after arrows suddenly flew around them.

Galahad watched stunned as Lancelot pulled his black horse to a stop instead of fleeing. He wasn't certain what was going on. Nervously he waited next to Lancelot, ready for anything that was to come.

He didn't have to wait long before three archers appeared in front of them all of a sudden, like shadows under the trees, their bows ready to fire. Unable to contain himself any longer, Galahad gripped the hilt of his sword and pulled it out of its sheath.

In the corner of his eyesight Lancelot saw how Galahad drew his weapon. "Galahad! No!" In a flash the dark Sarmatian noted how the Woads pulled back the strings on their bows, ready to fire their next arrows.

Lancelot threw himself at Galahad, knocking him out of his saddle, and together both knights tumbled to the ground.

Galahad instantly realized that Lancelot had been struck by the way the older man landed heavily on top of him without moving. All of a sudden the weight was lifted from him as Lancelot was easily pulled off of him and dumped on the ground next to him.

A pained groan sounded through the woods, but the moon didn't provide Galahad with enough light to determine whether Lancelot was seriously injured or not.

A voice, thick with an unfamiliar accent, weaved through the air reaching Galahad's ears. "What do you want? Why did you not fight?"

In the dark it was impossible for Galahad to determine who of the three Woads has spoken up.

"We want to speak to Merlin."

With surprise and relief Galahad heard Lancelot answering. From his voice he knew that the dark knight was not hurt too badly. He listened while he heard the Woads converse in their own languages, unable to make out any of what was being said. Suddenly, Galahad was pulled to his feet roughly. Swiftly his hands were being bound behind his back. He was shoved forwards, and bumped into Lancelot who had obviously undergone the same treatment. Another push almost sent both knights to the ground in a heap, but they managed to stay upright and started walking.

–– 8 ––

They walked for a long time. Lancelot wasn't surprised to see the sun rising already. His whole body was aching, from fatigue, from walking with his hands tied behind his back, from the throbbing ache in his arm. All his nerves were tight, more so when they finally walked into their enemies' camp.

Lancelot and Galahad were lead into a tent, and pushed on to the ground. They looked at each other when the Woads left the tent again, leaving the Sarmatians alone, although from the voices outside it was clear that guards were in place.

Galahad looked at Lancelot once more, seeing the gash where an arrow had nicked his arm when he had thrown himself at Galahad. The youngest of the knights thought back ironically at Arthur's words when he had asked his knights to keep watch each night. He had more or less commanded to keep Lancelot from any more harm. Now the opposite had occurred – Lancelot had saved him from harm by pushing him off his horse as the Woads aimed their bows and had gotten hurt while doing so. With his eyes Galahad asked Lancelot how he was doing, nodding to his bloodied arm. The dark Sarmatian merely shook his head, not betraying how he was actually feeling.

They both looked up towards the opening of the tent as voices approached. Merlin entered with two other blue painted men behind him.

The old man stood watching the two knights for a moment before he spoke. "What do you want?" Merlin's tone of voice was neutral.

"Your help," Lancelot answered just as calmly.

Galahad almost missed the look of surprise that flashed over Merlin's tanned face.

"Why would I help you?" Merlin's voice still did not betray what he was thinking.

"You saved my life once before," Lancelot stated.

Merlin watched the dark Sarmatian thoughtfully. "What is this about?" For the first time his voice was tinged slightly with doubt.

"A few weeks ago, I lost one of my swords in a battle with your men. Then a few days ago, a Roman family was slaughtered when we were attacked by your men." Lancelot paused briefly. "They were killed with my sword, the one that had been missing. I am being accused of the murders."

This time the look of surprise on Merlin's face was obvious to both Galahad and Lancelot.

The Woad leader nodded slowly. "I ordered the attack on the Roman family. I don't know anything about your sword being used though. This is the first I hear about that."

Lancelot felt his anger rising to the surface once more as he heard Merlin calmly stating that he had issued the murder of the Romanuses. Images of the dead bodies of the Romanuses whirled through his mind. Images with his sword piercing through the Roman's heart. Images of him cleaning the sword day after day, night after night. Images of the loathing looks he had received from the Romans back at the fortress. Images of the pity in Arthur's eyes. He clenched his hands into fists behind his back, his knuckles going white. He clenched his teeth as not to speak up.

Merlin remained silent for a few minutes, considering what he had been told. "Give me two days to find some answers." He turned on his heels and left the tent, the two other men following silently.

Galahad looked over at Lancelot. "Why didn't you tell me you intended to get captured?"

"Would you have agreed to it?" Lancelot asked in return.

"No."

Lancelot smirked at Galahad.

–– 8 ––

Gawain entered Arthur's room without knocking and quietly closed the door behind him. He waited until Arthur looked up. "Lancelot and Galahad are gone," he said in a quiet voice, not wanting anyone else to hear the words.

Arthur nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, sending up a prayer to his God to keep his two knights safe. He stood up and followed Gawain out the door, straightening his shoulders. He was aware that all hell would break loose as soon as it became general knowledge that Lancelot had gotten away.


	6. Part Six

Galahad tried to sit in a position that would be more or less comfortable with his hands still tied behind his back. The muscles in his arms were protesting loudly against the abuse. He wished he could just stretch his arms and relax his shoulders for a few minutes. Besides him, Lancelot had sunk down on his knees. Galahad could see by the concentrated look on the dark knight's face that he was trying to get the ropes undone. He also noticed how blood was slowly trailing down Lancelot's arm, pooling on the ropes around his wrists, before running down his fingers.

Finally Galahad managed to sit with his legs crossed. He sighed with relief, although he knew it would only be short-lived until his arms started protesting once more.

"You got us in, but did you think of a way to get us out again? What if Merlin doesn't come up with the answers we need or they aren't what we want to know? How are we going to get out of here then?" Galahad asked, watching Lancelot carefully as he went on with his attempts to get his wrists freed.

Lancelot looked up briefly, staring at Galahad, before he shook his head. "We've got two days to figure it out," he answered, his voice lacking any smugness, but laced with fatigue.

For a moment Galahad looked straight ahead in thought. "Arthur gave us four days to return. After that, he'll come looking for us," he said slowly.

Lancelot looked up again, sharply, surprised.

Both men were startled by the sudden entry of two Woads. One of them was carrying a tray with food, water and bandages. He set the tray down without a word. The other Woad had remained at the opening of the tent, his sword drawn. Lancelot and Galahad watched without speaking as well, when the first Woad removed a knife from his side, and knelt down behind Galahad and cut his ropes. He quickly moved to Lancelot, whose hands were also freed. Without speaking up at all, the Woads left the tent again. The guards outside the tent were obviously still in place.

Gratefully both knights moved their arms and shoulders around, stretching sore limbs, flexing stiff joints. Before long, they both attacked the food. They ate in silence for awhile, both men alone with their thoughts.

Galahad glanced over at Lancelot, noting with concern how pale and drawn the dark Sarmatian looked. "Are you alright?" he asked for the first time since they had been taken captive by the Woads.

"Aye, it's merely a scratch," Lancelot answered, reaching for another piece of bread.

"A scratch that managed to colour your entire arm red, that kind of scratch?" Galahad's voice clearly indicated his annoyance at Lancelot's answer.

Lancelot shrugged, nothing like his usual quick-witted self.

"Let me take a look at it," Galahad insisted.

"I'm fine."

"Lancelot…" Galahad replied, sounding threatening, almost growling.

Lancelot stopped objecting and allowed Galahad to take a look at the cut. The cut was not very deep although long, and painful every time he moved his arm. Galahad ripped a piece from the bandages that the Woads had left behind and cleaned the wound with water. Lancelot leaned back tiredly as the younger knight gently bandaged his arm.

Galahad sat back on his heels when he was finished, and looked the dark Sarmatian over once more. "You know that you don't exactly look fine?" he said concerned.

Before Lancelot could reply, three heavily armed Woads strode into the tent. Both knights were roughly pulled up by their arms.

"They are looking for you. Scouts have been spotted. Merlin doesn't want to draw Romans to our camp," the oldest of the three Woads gave as an explanation, while pushing Galahad towards the opening of the tent. One of the other Woad pushed Lancelot after his fellow knight even before he got a chance to go after Galahad himself.

Cold rain poured down on them, soaking them thoroughly immediately. They were lead towards their horses. Lancelot saw with relief that their swords, bows and knifes were draped over their saddles.

"Merlin said to return in two days." As suddenly as they had appeared, the three Woads turned around and disappeared into the grey curtain that the rain had erected.

Lancelot quickly checked his horse before he mounted. "Let's go," he said wisely.

Galahad had already mounted his grey mare, and they rode away, Lancelot leading, Galahad following. Although it was still day, it was dark like dust between the trees. Heavy clouds lay overhead the woods.

After riding for half an hour, they reached a broader path and Galahad fell into step next to Lancelot. He noticed that the dark knight was favoring his right arm while holding the reins, where he normally used his left hand, but Galahad kept silent, knowing that there was nothing he could do for the other man right now anyway.

"Now what?" Galahad asked. "Where are we going?"

"We need to find a place where we can stay alive for the next two days," Lancelot replied. Both of them were well aware that they might have been safer as captives within the Woad camp then just the two of them wandering through a forest festered with enemies. Lancelot looked at the dark clouds that were gliding by faster and faster. "It's going to storm, we better find shelter somewhere."

–– 8 ––

Tristan hurried towards Arthur's quarters. His boots squelched with every step as they were soaking wet with rain. Drops of water were falling down his braided hair, leaving a trail behind him as he ran through the hallways.

Without knocking, he entered Arthur's rooms. Gawain, Dagonet and Bors were there as well. Their commander instantly stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting, a worried expression lining his features.

"They've been captured by Woads," Tristan said after he closed the door behind him.

Curses broke the silence as the scout's words settled heavily in their hearts.

Gawain looked towards Arthur. "Do we still wait four days?" he asked doubtfully.

The Roman thought for a few moments before he spoke up. "Knights, prepare to leave!"

–– 8 ––

Rain turned into hail, hail turned into snow. Before Lancelot and Galahad were able to find a suitable shelter against the rain underneath some thickly leaved trees, they got caught in the storm.

"Fits the mood," Lancelot stated, his voice dark and ominous. He dismounted, leading his black stallion and Galahad's grey mare to the nearby bushes, tying them securely to make certain they weren't left stranded without their horses. He let himself slid down a tree, resting his head back against the stem.

Galahad pulled his cloak from one of his saddle bags, and bread and water from the other, before he walked over to where Lancelot was seated. He handed him a piece of bread, before he settled down next to the older knight. Almost immediately he became aware of the clattering of Lancelot's teeth. "You're cold…"

Lancelot drew his cloak around him tighter, although it was as wet as he was himself. "I'm fine."

Galahad responded with irritation and genuine concern. "You're not fine! You're soaking wet, you're cold, and you don't look any less exhausted than you did when we were still in that tent!" He took a deep breath before he continued. "When is the last time you actually slept?" he asked, the picture of how Lancelot must have spent the last couple of days clear in his mind all of a sudden.

Lancelot didn't answer.

"You look like you haven't slept since the Romanuses were killed…"

"Close…" Lancelot mumbled more to himself than to answer Galahad's question.

In a softer tone Galahad continued. "Why don't you get some sleep? We're not going anywhere anytime soon. We have to wait this storm out before we can get moving again. I'll keep watch while you sleep. Not that there's much to watch out for in this weather. Not even the Woads will be moving about today."

"I don't need sleep." Lancelot's dark tone clearly said not to argue with him, even though his whole posture told a different story.

Galahad kept silent, familiar with the stubborn streak of the man sitting next to him. Instead he moved closer to the dark Sarmatian, sharing body warmth. He could feel the tremors coursing through Lancelot's body. When Lancelot didn't object, he threw his cloak around the both of them. They sat like that for quite a while, staring at all the different forms of water that were falling from the sky.

"Arthur asked us to keep you safe, but he really didn't have to ask. We've all been worried about you, Lancelot," Galahad confessed in a quiet voice. "It's not like you to hide in your room…"

"I've never been accused of murder before either," Lancelot answered equally quietly, unable to keep the pain at the accusations out of his voice. "The Romans force me to kill people in a battle not my own, and now these same Romans accuse me of murder!" He could feel the anger inside of him flaring up again.

"We never thought you did it!" Galahad's voice was anything but quiet now. Forcefully he continued, "Bors' remark was awkward, but no one of us ever believed you were responsible, Lancelot! I think only a few people in the whole fortress considered it true, or wanted it to be the truth!"

"But those few were enough to get us in this situation right now," Lancelot answered.

Galahad stared at his boots, not knowing how to answer the dark knight, realizing that he was right.

"Thank you for going with me."

Lancelot's voice had become even more soft, hardly audible to Galahad's ears, but he heard the words. He pulled the cloak even tighter around himself and the shivering knight. "Always."

"When did Arthur ask you to hold watch during the nights?" Lancelot asked the question that had been on his mind ever since Galahad had shown himself to him in the stables.

"The first day after the killings already," Galahad answered.

Lancelot turned his head to Galahad in surprise.

The younger knight smiled at him in amusement. "We took bets as to how long it would take before you left the fortress."

"Who won?"

"Arthur."

Lancelot chuckled.

"He knows you well, Lancelot," Galahad said with a grin on his face. "Gawain, Tristan and Bors thought you would leave sooner than two days. Dagonet and I both guessed longer."

–– 8 ––

Lancelot and Galahad spent the most of the next two days shielding from rain and snow and moving from shelter to shelter to avoid being found by Woads. They had a few close encounters with Woad warriors nonetheless. One Woad almost stumbled over them, quite literally.

Lancelot had pulled Galahad to the side behind a large tree when he had become aware of the man walking towards their shelter. The dark Sarmatian had immediately realized that the Woad was not aware of their presence as he was not trying to obscure the noises he was making while walking at all. But he was heading straight for their hiding place and Lancelot knew he would have to deal with the Woad fast and silently. He signaled to Galahad to remain silent while he gripped his knife tightly within his fist. When the Woad was separated from them only by the tree they were hiding behind, Lancelot stuck out his leg. The unexpected obstacle sent the Woad flying to the ground. Before he could even start to think of recovering, Lancelot had jumped on his back already, slung his arm around the man's neck, pulling his head backwards and exposing his neck, which the Sarmatian slit with a swift motion from his knife, spraying blood over the forest floor everywhere.

Galahad had looked on stunned until Lancelot had pointed out the large group of Woads passing very close by. They had escaped discovery only by a hair's breadth.

–– 8 ––

Tristan waited until his commander and fellow knights had caught up with him. He had been sent off to scout around by Arthur several times each day, and each time he had come back with the same answer.

Arthur looked at his scout questioningly.

Tristan shook his head. "No trace of them. They are not in Merlin's camp anymore, of that I'm certain."

"They must have gotten away. It doesn't make sense that they would be transferred to another camp." The muscles of Arthur's jaw were tense as he considered the possibilities.

"Lancelot is an expert in erasing his traces. And the rain is taking care of the rest," Tristan stated quietly. "If I can't track him, at least the Woads can't either."

–– 8 ––

Uncertain of how to proceed, Lancelot and Galahad just rode into the Woad camp slowly. They could see how word about their arrival spread fast as blue painted men and women rose to their feet, pointing, talking, running. Soon one of the Woads that had been with Merlin the previous time came towards them. "Follow me," he said, turning back to where he just came from.

Lancelot dismounted, with Galahad following quickly. They followed the Woad until they reached a large tent at the edge of the camp. Leaving their horses, the two Sarmatian knights stepped inside. The tent was fitted with a large table, and lit by several oil lamps. Merlin was seated at the table with several other Woads next to him. One of them had his hands tied behind his back.

Lancelot and Galahad looked on puzzled, surprised.

Merlin addressed the knights without any delay. "We found the answers you wanted. We were betrayed as were you. You can take him with you to your commander." The Woad leader nodded to the man with the bound hands.

Relief flooded Lancelot. He was the first to find his tongue again. "What did happen?"

Merlin spoke to the bound Woad and ordered him to tell once more what he had told him earlier. When the man had finished, relief had left Lancelot once more, a feeling of dread, anger and pain in its place. He could hear Galahad cursing in their native tongue next to him.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot and Galahad had been traveling through the rain for half a day already, back to Hadrian's wall. Their captive was riding in front of Galahad. His hands were tied in the front this time and Lancelot had fastened the rope to Galahad's saddle as well to ensure that the Woad wouldn't be able to just jump off the horse.

Lancelot suddenly became aware that they were being followed. Woads, he knew immediately. He turned around to Galahad and signaled to him to urge his horse on to as much speed as she could muster. The grey mare was strong and fast but she was carrying two men.

Lancelot lead the way, his bow ready in his hand. Still unexpectedly arrows flew by his head. He yelled to Galahad to take the path to their right, while he pulled back his own horse, turning the stallion around and racing after Galahad.

Woads appeared on the path before Galahad, effectively blocking the way in front of him. He drew his sword from the sheath hanging over the mare's shoulder while he pulled her to a stop at the same time. Lancelot was next to him within seconds. The dark knight jumped from his horse while reaching over his head for his twin swords.

Lancelot realized immediately that they were outnumbered, that they could never take on such a large group and expect to come out on the winning side. He let the rage inside him consume him and lend him strength to fight with everything he had. He wielded the twin swords with as much precision and vigor as he always did and soon several dead Woads were lying at his feet. He tried to look around him to see how Galahad was faring, but the younger knight had been driven away from him and was engaged in battle several dozen feet away. Lancelot did notice that the Woad that had been their captive was now freed and watching the fight.

Suddenly the sound of Galahad screaming out in pain reached him and he turned around in time to watch how the young Sarmatian was forced on his knees. Galahad tried to get up but his opponent was raising his sword for a final swing already.


	7. Part Seven

Out of nowhere an arrow flew through the air and with perfect aim penetrated the left eye of Galahad's opponent. The Woad let out a blood-curdling scream before he sagged through his knees and died without uttering another sound.

At the same moment, Bors' battle cry resounded through the air, following the path of the arrow. "Ruuuuuuuuuuuus!" Not much later the sound of drumming hooves of galloping horses reached Galahad and Lancelot.

Lancelot turned his attention back to the Woads in front of him just in time to deflect a broadsword being brought down with force, intended to separate his head from his body. He immediately thrust the sword in his left hand forwards, impaling it in the warrior's abdomen. He ignored the pain in his arm as he pulled the blade out again.

Galahad tried to get up but fell back when pain seared through his left leg. A deep cut over his right thigh was bleeding heavily. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he heard a voice above him telling him to stay where he was.

Gawain didn't have more time to check how Galahad was doing as more Woads came at them fast. The blond knight knew that Dagonet was fighting at Galahad's other side, swinging his axe in an almost inhuman fashion, to keep him safe. Fear had filled Gawain when he had seen the fatal threat to Galahad's life and it fueled him now to kill the Woads as fast as he could.

Arthur had joined Lancelot and was involved in a fierce battling soon but Excalibur was no match for any of the Woads. With a powerful swing of the sword, the Roman decapitated another of the blue painted men. He quickly glanced behind him where the dark knight was fighting. Arthur could see that Lancelot was covered in blood, but he could still make out the pale face of his second in command as well. He also noticed that the Sarmatian was no longer fighting with his usual fire and vigor, the dancing rhythm with which he usually wielded his swords lacking.

The Roman commander had no time to ask how he was doing as he sensed the approach of another Woad. A spear was aimed at him, but Arthur quickly spun around to end up almost nose to nose with the Woad, before he pushed Excalibur into the side of the man. His sword came free again as the man fell to his side almost in slow motion.

All of a sudden Arthur heard Lancelot call out, despair echoing in his voice.

"NO!"

Arthur quickly turned around to see what was happening to find Lancelot staring at Tristan who was about to plunge his sword through the heart of the Woad that was lying on the ground in front of him.

"Tristan! NO!" Lancelot screamed out again. He took a step towards the scout, but was immediately attacked by yet another Woad. The Sarmatian knight swiftly crossed his twin swords to block the sword that was swung in his direction. Just as quickly he uncrossed his swords again, surprising his opponent and bringing him out of balance. When the Woad fell forwards, Arthur was at Lancelot's side to finish the man off with a calculated slash of Excalibur.

Lancelot instantly turned to Tristan once more, relief washing over him as he saw that the scout had not killed the Woad that had been his and Galahad's captive, the only one that knew the truth about the murders of Valerius and Antonia Romanus. With the tip of his curved sword, Tristan held the man down to the ground. He looked from Lancelot to Arthur.

"Don't kill him!" Lancelot said, his voice taut with urgency.

"Do as he says. Tie him up," Arthur commanded, uncertain of Lancelot's motives, but not willing to question them.

Around him, Arthur noticed that Gawain at one side and Bors at the other side were taking care off the last Woads still standing. He re-sheathed Excalibur and glanced at Lancelot. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Lancelot answered firmly but quietly. "Galahad."

Both Lancelot and Arthur turned to where Dagonet and Gawain were already kneeling down next to the youngest in their ranks. Lancelot set off running towards them, Arthur following closely.

The Roman crouched down next to Dagonet, who was cleaning the huge slash across Galahad's thigh with wet cloths. Galahad hissed in pain.

"How is he?" Arthur asked.

"We're going to have to stitch the wound up," the big knight replied. He looked up over his shoulder to see where Tristan was.

The scout was pushing the Woad traitor forwards, using his sword to ensure that the man didn't try to escape, until they reached Bors who was standing next to the horses. Tristan handed their captive over to the bald Sarmatian.

"Tristan!" Dagonet called out. He turned back to Galahad without waiting for a response from the scout.

"Are you alright?" Arthur directed his question at Galahad this time.

"I'll live," Galahad answered through gritted teeth.

"You better!" Gawain said, showing his relief clearly. The blond knight briefly clasped his hand on Galahad's shoulder, conveying to him how glad he was that the younger knight was still alive, how glad he was that Tristan's arrow had been right on target to kill the man who was about to kill his best friend.

Arthur stood up as Tristan approached them to make room for the scout. He looked over to Lancelot, who was standing behind Gawain, watching as Galahad was tended to by his fellow knights. The dark knight was unusually quiet and still, worrying his commander. He moved to stand next to Lancelot. "Are **you** alright?" Arthur asked softly.

Lancelot looked up briefly and their gazes locked. Arthur could clearly see the fatigue in the brown eyes. The Sarmatian nodded slowly. "We should get Galahad back to the wall as soon as possible," he spoke up. Without waiting for Arthur's answer, the dark knight walked off towards his black stallion.

Dagonet had told Galahad to lie down, while Tristan prepared needle and thread to sew the wound closed. Galahad looked at the scout with trepidation.

Gawain caught his gaze and tried to distract Galahad. "A tiny needle can't possibly hurt as much as the sword that cut through your leg!"

"I'll remind you of that the next time **you** are the one being sewn up!" Galahad answered with passion. "A sword is fast, a nee…" Galahad screwed his eyes shut as Tristan drove the needle in for the first time. "Gods!" Tristan continued steadily while the young knight cursed every deity in existence. Gawain didn't improve the situation when he started snickering at Galahad's cursing.

After Tristan had finished stitching the wound, Dagonet bandaged it gently. With Gawain's help, the tall knight pulled Galahad to his feet, while Arthur watched on. "Can you ride?" the Roman asked.

"I think so, yes," Galahad replied. He was leaning heavily on Gawain, who had draped Galahad's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around the other man's waist.

Soon they were riding back to the wall. Arthur could hear Bors and Gawain talking with Galahad, asking him everything that had happened in the past couple of days. Dagonet and Tristan were riding in the back, quiet, but listening to Galahad as well. Arthur cast a glance aside to Lancelot, who was riding silently alongside him. He suppressed the urge to ask his best friend once more if he was alright. Lancelot's pale, pasty appearance, his weary features and dark hollow eyes worried his commander a great deal.

At the stables they were greeted by Jols, who couldn't suppress his joy at seeing all of his knights return to the fortress. After one look at Lancelot, the squire looked at Arthur questioningly. Silently Arthur gestured to Jols to leave Lancelot alone, that he would deal with the dark Sarmatian himself. He dismounted swiftly, handing the reins of his white stallion to Jols.

Arthur turned to the Roman guards at the gates to the stables. "Take the captive to the main hall," he ordered. "I will be there soon to question him. Knights, get cleaned up and meet in the hall in an hour."

Gawain walked over to where Galahad was still sitting on top of his grey mare. "Need a hand?" he asked concerned.

Carefully Galahad swung his uninjured leg over the neck of his horse and slid out off the saddle to the ground. Gawain was there to support him when his feet hit the ground. Galahad groaned in pain as bolts of fire seemed to strike his thigh.

Lancelot had dismounted as well and was watching how the Roman guards took the captured Woad away. He leaned against his horse, feeling his strength leaving him rapidly now that he had returned to his 'home'. His vision was blurring and he blinked several times to clear it.

Arthur looked over at where Lancelot was standing, aware of the unfamiliar silence surrounding the dark knight. He watched how Lancelot took an unsteady step forwards, and then how, without a word, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground. He felt his consciousness fading.

"Lancelot!"

Arthur ran over to him and crouched next to Lancelot. The others gathered around, surprised and worried. Tristan knelt down next to the unconscious knight as well.

"Was he hurt? He seemed unharmed," Dagonet asked concerned.

Arthur gently laid Lancelot on his back, and with Tristan's help he quickly checked the curly haired man for hidden injuries.

Galahad limped over with Gawain's help, the bandages around his thigh already staining red again with blood that was still seeping out of the cut. "He is completely exhausted. He hasn't slept in days, maybe even since the day that the Romanus family was murdered. He dozed occasionally, but he refused to sleep. I tried to argue with him, but he's kind of stubborn…"

Arthur's lips curled briefly into a smile, knowing all too well what Galahad was talking about. "I'll take him to his room," the Roman said, and carefully lifted the dark knight up in his arms.

Dagonet had followed his commander and opened the door to Lancelot's quarters. Gently Arthur placed Lancelot on his bed. "We need to get his armour off," Arthur stated.

With efficient motions, Arthur and Dagonet unbuckled the scabbards, Lancelot's leather chest armour, his leg and arm protectors. His boots quickly followed. Arthur proceeded to undress the Sarmatian completely, while Dagonet stood and left the room to get a basin of warm water and cloths to clean the blood and dirt off the knight. When they were finished, Arthur pulled the blankets up over Lancelot. The dark knight had not stirred once at their ministrations. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, the paleness of his face making him look very young, very vulnerable.

Galahad appeared in the door opening to Lancelot's room, Gawain supporting him while they walked forwards slowly. His leg was freshly bandaged. "I'll stay with him. You'll want to hear what the Woad has to tell you. You won't like it," he told Arthur, his voice grave.


	8. Part Eight

Arthur walked into the great hall and took in the scene before him. His knights were already seated at the round table, tense looks on their faces. They had seated the Woad that had been taken captive to Arthur's left, one seat away from Lancelot's. His hands were untied, but two Roman guards were standing right behind him. More Roman guards were standing guard next to the door opening where Arthur had paused himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and strode forwards to his seat. As soon as he sat down, Jols put a goblet of warm wine in front of him. He nodded gratefully at the squire.

"How is our Lancey?" Bors asked while raising his own goblet.

"Asleep," Arthur answered briefly, feeling the worry, both present as of the past days, for his second in command washing over him again.

Arthur took in another deep breath, before he stood and turned to face the Woad. "What is your name?"

The man stared at Arthur and kept silent.

Arthur stared straight back, his green eyes burning into the Woad warrior. Normally he was the voice of reason, but this time he had trouble keeping his calm. "Why did you steal one of my knights' swords and used it to kill a Roman family?" he asked trying to keep any anger out of his voice.

"Why would I tell you?" the Woad spit out, his fists clenching in front of him.

Before Arthur realized what he was doing, Excalibur was in his hands and the tip of the sword at the Woad's throat. "Because," he said in a dangerous voice, punctuating every word, "one of my knights was accused of murder, and two of them nearly got killed searching for you and the truth." He raised the hilt of Excalibur slightly, forcing the Woad to raise his chin slightly as it was pushed upwards by the blade that it was now resting on. "Your own leader handed you over to my knights. I suggest you start talking right now." Arthur kept Excalibur at the man's throat for a few more seconds. Stepping back, he re-sheathed the big sword, although his hand never left the hilt.

All around the round table, the other knights sat down again, having jumped up from their seats in surprise and support when they saw their commander drawing his weapon.

"Once more, what is your name?" Arthur asked in a reasonable voice.

"Circinn."

"Circinn. Were you the one that stole my knight's sword?" Arthur asked, standing in front of his seat.

"Yes." Circinn's eyes wandered again to Excalibur as Arthur gripped the hilt even more tightly.

"Why?"

"I was ordered to do so."

"By Merlin?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"No." A scared look was settling on the Woad's face.

"Who then?" Arthur took a step towards the Woad again.

Circinn's eyes went back and forth through the hall, searching for a way to escape.

With Galahad absent, Gawain sat closest to the Woad on his left side. He stood up, and walked around the table until he was only two seats away. The blond knight held his hand on the hilt of his sword as well, a mirror image of his commander.

"Who?" Arthur again, forcefully this time.

"A Roman commander from Haltwhistle Fortress." The words were uttered almost inaudibly, but everyone heard. A shock wave thundered through the great hall.

Arthur blinked in surprise, as the other knights exchanged glances. Too many thoughts, feelings were running through the Roman. It took him a minute before he could gather his thoughts. "Why?" was the question boiling to the surface first.

Circinn visible swallowed before he answered. "I was captured during a battle. He said he would spare my life if I could steal your knight's sword in return." He opened his mouth as though he was going to say more, but he closed it again without a sound.

Arthur and Gawain took a step closer to the Woad at the same time. Circinn continued before they had said anything. "It took me weeks to steal it. Your knight is too good with his swords. It was merely luck that he let go off it when my cousin pulled him off his horse." Again he swallowed heavily, but this time he continued without any more prodding. "When I brought it to Haltwhistle, the commander said that it had taken me too long, that I would have to do something else for him, before I would be certain of my life. He threatened to raid my village, kill everyone, including our women and children, if I didn't oblige or went to Merlin."

Arthur's face reflected the anger inside of him clearly. "This Roman commander ordered you to kill the Roman family?"

Circinn just nodded, looking down at his hands that were still clenched in fists, his knuckles white. "And to kill the knight who the sword belonged to."

Bors couldn't contain himself any longer. He sprung to his feet, slamming his fist down on the table. The goblets of wine shook on their feet. "Framing our Lancelot for murder wasn't enough? You were supposed to kill him as well?"

Arthur raised his hand to silence Bors. With loud mumbling and cursing the burly knight sat down again.

"Why?" Arthur asked again, his voice thick with rage.

The Woad looked up at him in confusion. "I… I just told you why…"

"Why did this Roman commander want you to steal my knight's sword and use it to kill a Roman family? Why did he want to frame Lancelot for murder?" Arthur almost screamed.

"To get rid off **you**."

Arthur stared at the Woad wordlessly.

Gawain was the first to speak up. "Explain yourself!"

Circinn looked from Arthur to Gawain and back to Arthur once more. "He wanted to blacken you, defame you, to get rid off you completely. At first he ordered me to steal Excalibur, but his second convinced him that no one would ever believe that you would kill another Roman, let alone a helpless family. So they came up with the idea to frame one of your knights, the one closest to you, because it would reflect on you, and make the Roman leaders look upon you differently." He spoke rapidly, as though he was glad to finally be able to tell someone the truth.

Arthur took a step back, and another, and another, until he felt his seat against his calves. He let himself fall back in the chair, numb with shock, anger, betrayal, confusion.

–– 8 ––

Arthur walked through the narrow streets towards the building that housed the quarters of the knights. Deeply in thought, the Roman only noticed Gawain walking towards him when the blond Sarmatian had caught up with him already.

"You talked with Livius?" Gawain asked curiously and concerned.

Arthur simply nodded his answer, trying to shake himself out of the numbness that had not been lifted by his talk with the centurion. The older Roman had a lot of experience in politics and had made a lot of sense while talking with him, but that didn't mean that Arthur liked the end result.

"I'm so sorry."

Gawain's words shook Arthur out of his thoughts. He nodded once more. "So am I. Lancelot and Galahad got hurt because of me," he answered, hurt evident in his voice even though he spoke in a calm tone.

"Arthur, you know that's not true. They got hurt because someone else ordered it. You had nothing to do with it," Gawain reasoned with his commander.

"It doesn't feel like that!" Arthur replied angrily.

Gawain didn't take offense, knowing that the anger was not directed against him. "What will happen now?"

"Nothing." Arthur's voice sounded empty, drained all of a sudden.

"Nothing?" Gawain repeated confused. "What about the Roman at Haltwhistle?"

"It will be his word against the word of a Woad. Who do you think will be believed?" Arthur did not attempt to hide the contempt he was feeling towards the Roman establishment that he was part of himself.

Gawain reeled with shock. "What about Lancelot? Will he still be tried for murder?"

"No."

"Just like that? " Gawain asked confused. "So, they do believe that he was framed?"

"Yes." Arthur sighed deeply.

Gawain cursed loudly. "Will you tell Lancelot?"

Arthur nodded yet again.

–– 8 ––

Arthur had been sitting next to Lancelot's bed for hours on end already, lost in his thoughts, wondering if there was some way he could set everything right. He couldn't come up with the answers.

"You brood too much."

Arthur snapped to awareness at hearing Lancelot's quiet voice.

"It's not your fault, Arthur," Lancelot offered, sensing what his best friend had been brooding about.

The Roman did not respond as he looked closely at Lancelot, studied every line in his face, the pale skin, the dark smudges around his eyes betraying the extent of his fatigue. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. Just really tired still," the Sarmatian answered honestly. His dark eyes locked with Arthur's gaze and at once he felt the concern and hurt that his best friend was experiencing. "You don't have to worry about me, Arthur. Truthfully! If you hadn't found us in time, it would be different, but you did."

"We almost didn't." Arthur suppressed a shudder. "After Tristan told us that the two of you had been captured, we went looking for you. We thought that you would still be in the Woad camp, but it soon became clear you weren't there anymore. It took us days to find you."

Lancelot nodded. "We were swerving through the woods to make sure the Woads didn't find us." He struggled to sit up and gratefully excepted Arthur's helping hands.

"We only found you when Tristan found another group of Woads and overheard them talking about two knights tracking through the woods. That's when we found you. Or heard you, really. We heard the sounds of the battle before we saw you, but we knew immediately that you and Galahad would be involved. One minute later and Galahad would be dead now," Arthur explained, the brooding look back on his face.

"But he isn't. You did find us in time, Arthur," the dark Sarmatian replied. He paused for a moment. "Why did you let me go? Why didn't you stop me from leaving?" he asked in soft voice.

Arthur replied in an equally soft voice. "Because the answer was only to be found amongst the Woads, and I knew as well as you did that the Romans would never go so far as to investigate even a murder amongst their enemies."

"Especially not to clear a Sarmatian knight," Lancelot finished Arthur's sentence.

Arthur could only nod in agreement.

"How did you know that I would go after the Woad?"

Arthur looked up in the Sarmatian's face. "You know me better than anyone else, but our friendship goes two ways, dear Lancelot. I knew that your pride would never allow you to just sit there and wait and do nothing to rectify the injustice that was being done to you."

Lancelot rubbed his eyes and temples with his hands. Arthur could see how exhaustion was claiming the Sarmatian's body already once again.

"What's going to happen now?" the dark knight asked.

Arthur remained silent, which was all the answer the Sarmatian needed.

"There won't be any inquiry into what the Roman did, will there? Lancelot asked incredulously.

"No," Arthur answered silently.

Anger flared over Lancelot's features. He cursed in his native tongue as he slowly laid back down on his bed again. He closed his eyes tiredly.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked concerned.

"Yes, I just need more sleep," Lancelot replied without opening his eyes, his voice strained.

Arthur stood up and walked towards the door. "Go to sleep then. You do look like you need it. I'll be back in the morning."

As soon as he heard the door closing behind his commander, Lancelot's eyes opened, a fire fueled by fury burning in them, and he grabbed the object nearest to his bed, which turned out to be the newly replaced water bowl. With all his might, he hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall and came crashing down in a thousand pieces.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot opened his eyes, only sluggishly awakening. He took in his surrounding as slowly it dawned on him that he was at the fortress, in his own bed. His eyes fell on Arthur who was sitting behind the only table in his room, working on reports, when all the occurrences of the last days came rushing back to him. He remembered the conversation with Arthur clearly.

"Arthur?"

The mentioning of his name almost startled the Roman, but a smile graced his face as he saw Lancelot awake, watching him closely. "Lancelot." He immediately stood from his chair and walked over to the bed.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I wasn't angry with you," Lancelot said sincerely. "I know you can't help or change any of this."

"I know," Arthur replied. "There's no need to apologize."

Lancelot's glance unconsciously drifted to where he threw the water bowl the day before. Surprised he found that there were no traces of shards.

Arthur followed his gaze, and chuckled softly. "I'm not sure how many more water bowls I can get from our supply warehouse before they start wondering what I need so many for…"

Slowly a smile appeared on Lancelot's face. "They make nice throwing objects. Just heavy enough, without being too heavy. Maybe we should take a supply with us when we ride out next time. The Woads will surely be surprised," he laughed.

"How about a drink in the tavern?" Arthur asked, the smile extending into his voice. "If you're up to," he added hesitantly.

"Artorius Castus having a drink in the morning?" Lancelot teased his friend.

The Roman laughed out loud. "It's evening already! You slept for nearly a day since you last woke up."

Arthur extended a hand which Lancelot grabbed gratefully and pulled the Sarmatian up into a sitting position. He watched as Lancelot got out of bed with uncertain movements and was ready to catch him when he wobbled on his feet. Arthur stumbled backwards as Lancelot's weight was suddenly completely in his arms, nearly bringing both of them to the floor. "Maybe this is not such a good idea," Arthur said concerned as he supported the curly haired man.

"Wait a moment…" Lancelot muttered while shaking his head to clear the dizziness. "I've just been lying down for two days. Let me get used to be vertical again." He placed his hands on Arthur's chest and gently pushed himself away, taking his weight on his own legs again. "Much better. Let's go."

Arthur shook his head in amusement as he followed Lancelot out the door.

The moment they walked into the tavern, all faces turned them. Cheers rose from the table where the other knights were seated.

Gawain slapped Lancelot on his back as he sat down next to him. "Good to have you back again," the blond knight said with a big grin on his face. "Even though it means having to share the women!"

Tristan just nodded, a genuine smile on his face.

"Welcome back. You've been missed," Dagonet said from across the table.

"About time that you showed up!" Bors stated, rocking the sleeping baby he was holding in his arms. "The Romans have been taking all of our money, and we need you to win it all back again!"

Lancelot couldn't help but smile at the warm welcome. He could feel the stares of the other visitors, especially the Roman soldiers, of the tavern on him, but not with the cold hatred as he had experienced the last time he had been there.

Vanora came to the table to greet him as well, carrying a plate of food, which she sat in front of him. "You look like you need it," she smiled at him.

Lancelot's stomach growled in response, making his fellow knights laugh loudly. He devoured the food in front of him, feeling his strength return to him with each bite. He listened to the talking and laughing around him contently. Vanora soon came by again, handing jars filled with ale to everyone.

Suddenly Lancelot felt a hand on his shoulder. "Move over!" Galahad commanded cheerfully, a jar of ale in his other hand. As soon as Lancelot had moved to the left, the young knight sat down between the dark knight and Gawain.

"How's your leg?" Lancelot asked.

"Throbbing, but nothing a few more ales won't take care off," Galahad replied laughingly. He turned seriously all of a sudden. "How are you doing? Arthur told you that the Roman was going to walk away with what he did, didn't he?"

"There's not a lot I can do about it, is there?" Lancelot sighed. "But I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Galahad looked at him with hawk's eyes. "I saw how troubled you were when we were out there. Hell, you didn't even sleep!"

Lancelot smiled ruefully. "I made up for it, didn't I?"

The younger knight grinned. "Yes, you certainly did."

"Galahad?" Lancelot said hesitantly.

Galahad looked at him questioningly.

"Thank you for going with me. Thank you for being my friend." Lancelot's dark eyes showed his gratitude clearly as he looked straight into Galahad's blue-grey ones, which reflected the same sentiments.

"I'm glad you're okay, and glad to be able to call you my friend," Galahad answered softly. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "I wouldn't want to have to fight these two deadly blades of yours!"

Three hours later the huge table in front of the knights was littered with empty ale jars. Lancelot and Galahad sat slumped against each other, the dark knight's head lolled to one side and resting on the younger knight's shoulder. Lancelot's eyes had been closing involuntarily for some time, and he had finally giving up on keeping them open. He soon grew unaware of anything going on him around him as sleep enveloped him. He never noticed how strong arms easily picked him up as Arthur lifted him off of Galahad and carried him towards his room and his bed.


	9. Of Friendship and Memories companion pi...

**A/N: A Gawain/Galahad centered companion piece to "Separation of Swords" especially for Shauna:) **

**This takes place after the interrogation of Circinn in the main hall, during which Galahad had kept watch over Lancelot. I could have  
included this in part 8 of "Separation of Swords" but it would have broken up two parts which I felt belong together :)**

* * *

Arthur opened the door to Lancelot's room and walked in quietly, Gawain on his heels. 

Galahad sat on a chair next to Lancelot's bed, his leg resting on a second chair. Gawain immediately noticed how pale the young knight looked, as pale as the dark knight sleeping in the bed. The young knight looked up when he heard the two men entering.

"How is he?" Arthur asked softly.

"Sleeping peacefully," Galahad replied as he struggled with his leg to stand up.

Gawain quickly moved forwards and slid Galahad's arm around his shoulders, pulling him up to his feet. He could feel how Galahad swayed next to him, grabbing hold of Gawain's tunic tightly to keep himself from falling.

"Thank you for staying with him," Arthur said gratefully. "Get some rest. You look like you need it badly as well."

"Come on," Gawain said, helping Galahad turn around towards the door.

Galahad groaned in pain as he took a first step, putting weight on his injured leg. He leaned heavily on Gawain, who wrapped an arm around Galahad's waist.

By the time they had crossed the short distance to the door, Galahad's brow was covered with tiny droplets of sweat, his pallor sickly white. Gawain could feel how his friend was leaning on him heavier with each step he took.

Halfway between Lancelot's and Galahad's room, Galahad suddenly grabbed hold of Gawain with his free hand as well. He closed his eyes, bowing his head, as he swallowed heavily.

Gawain immediately halted their progress. "Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Galahad opened his eyes, but kept his head down. "Everything went black for a second there…Gods, I need to sit down, or I'll throw up all over you!" he said.

The blond Sarmatian recognized the urgency in Galahad's voice, and gently pried his hand away from where it had a tight grip on his tunic. Slowly he helped the young knight sit down against the stone wall in the hallway.

Galahad immediately pressed his head against the cold stones, while he breathed in slowly and deeply.

Gawain watched with concern for awhile before he spoke up. "Should I get Flavius?"

Galahad shook his head. "No, I'll be alright once I can lie down in bed."

"Do you want to get moving again already?" Gawain asked tentatively.

"Aye. Help me up," Galahad answered.

Placing his arms around Galahad's torso, Gawain pulled the young Sarmatian to his feet. He waited a moment while Galahad steadied himself before he let go to drape Galahad's arm over his shoulders once more. "Ready?"

Galahad nodded while he clenched his jaws.

Even slower than before they moved forwards. When they reached Galahad's room, Galahad grabbed hold of the doorframe while Gawain opened the door.

Galahad felt like all strength was seeping out of him even faster, the closer they came to his bed. Finally, Gawain gently lowered him down to sit on the bed. He let himself fall backwards, gritting his teeth as the impact on the soft bedding was enough to send white hot bolts of pain through his leg. He closed his eyes to banish the pain from his mind and body. He felt how Gawain carefully lifted both his legs. Keeping his eyes closed, he placed his hands on the bed and pushed himself farther up on it. His head sank gratefully in his pillow as Gawain placed his legs on the bed.

"Galahad? Are you still with me?" Gawain asked quietly, not wanting to awaken the young man had he fallen asleep.

"Aye," came Galahad's short answer. He brought his hands up to his face to wipe away the sweat that was pouring down his temples now. His brown curls were matted to his forehead.

"I have to change the bandages. Just lie still while I get them." Gawain briefly placed a reassuring hand on Galahad's shoulder before he left the room.

When Gawain returned, he immediately noticed that Galahad had fallen asleep this time, evidently by the slow even motions of his rising and falling chest. The young Sarmatian looked barely older than the first time Gawain had met him, nearly eight years before.

Gawain felt regret at having to wake Galahad again, but at the same time he knew that the wound needed to be cleaned and freshly bandaged to keep it from becoming infected. He placed a hand on Galahad's arm and gently shook it. "Galahad?"

Groggily the blue-grey eyes opened, looking blankly at Gawain for a second before Galahad's brain caught up with his awakened state. He sighed deeply, while his eyes fluttered closed again.

"No, no, Galahad, stay wake," Gawain chuckled softly, as he shook Galahad's arm again. Galahad mumbled something incoherently, but Gawain could imagine vividly what he had said.

"Can you pull up your leg a bit?" the blond knight asked as he placed his hand underneath Galahad's knee, ready to support him as Galahad complied.

Galahad's eyes snapped open as the pain in his leg intensified ten-fold by the movement.

Gawain continued to remove the blood red stained bandage around Galahad's thigh. He could feel how the cloth stuck to the wound at some places.

Galahad felt the pain stabbing like daggers as Gawain pulled the bandage free. He clenched his hands into fists as his breath hitched in his throat. Red and orange spots were dancing before his eyes.

Gawain briefly looked up at Galahad as he heard how the other man held his breath. He wasn't surprised to see that the eyes looking at him were darkened, dulled with agony. "I thought you were going to die right before my eyes, when we found you and Lancelot," Gawain confessed softly while he continued cleaning the wound with water as not to prolong the torment for his best friend.

Galahad swallowed and exhaled loudly. "So did I." He shuddered as he relived the memory of what had occurred. At first he hadn't felt how the sword had nearly cut his thigh in two. His leg had simply refused to bear his weight any longer. Only when he had fallen to the ground, the grip on his sword loosening, had he become aware of the pain and the blood flowing freely from his leg. He had felt lightheaded, his mind sluggish. He had seen how the Woad he had been fighting had raised his sword. He had known that he had to do something to block the blow, but he just couldn't get his limbs to subject to his mind's wishes. The shadow of the broadsword above his head had felt like a foreshadowing of the darkness that was about to come. His gaze had traveled to where he knew Lancelot was fighting. He had felt relieved to see that his brother-in-arms was still up and fighting. He had felt even more relief when he saw the familiar horses galloping fast towards them, knowing that Lancelot would be safe, even though he had thought it would be too late for him. He had heard a swooshing sound and he had been so certain that it was the sound of the Woad's sword being brought down. He had been surprised when he felt no pain when the sound stopped, followed by a dull thud as though a weapon had hit flesh. Only when he had felt Gawain's hand on his shoulder and heard his voice had he know that he was still alive, while the Woad was not. It hadn't been until much later that he had realized that Tristan's arrow had killed his opponent.

"Galahad? Galahad!" Gawain bent over Galahad concerned when the young knight had remained unresponsive to his calling out his name. He only knew that Galahad hadn't lost consciousness or gone back to sleep because Galahad's eyes were still open, although he seemed to be on a different plane, deeply engrossed in his thoughts.

Galahad shook his head as he saw Gawain's face appear in front of him, the blue eyes fixating him. "Sorry. I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Gawain nodded understandingly, before he moved back down on the bed to continue bandaging Galahad's leg.

"I wasn't scared."

Gawain looked up to see the surprised look on Galahad's face. "Scared of what?"

"Not scared," the young Sarmatian corrected. "Of dying. I wasn't scared to die." He winced in pain as Gawain wound the bandages around his thigh. "I always thought I would be terrified when that final moment would arrive. But I wasn't. I really thought I was going to die when I saw you and Arthur and the other riding hard toward us. I knew you would be too late to safe me though. But it was alright. I knew you would be able to get to Lancelot before he would be killed, and I knew you would all know the truth about the killing of the Romanuses. And beyond that, all was alright." He paused briefly. "I was more terrified when I killed someone for the first time."

"The pain and the blood loss kept you from feeling afraid," Gawain replied, nodding again in understanding. "But I'm very glad that we got to you in time and you didn't die even though it would have been 'alright' with you!" he grinned at Galahad. "I've finished. You can put your leg down."

Galahad felt all blood draining from his face, as Gawain gently laid his leg flat down on the bed. Pain crawled through his veins, making it impossible to breathe.

"Galahad!"

Gawain's voice pried itself a way into his clouded mind as the pain started to dissipate little by little once more. "Sweet Goddess!" he whispered as he forced air into his lungs.

"Are you alright?" Gawain asked equally softly, concern thick in his voice.

"Aye," Galahad breathed out. "That hurt!"

"I can imagine," Gawain chuckled. "Go to sleep. The pain won't be so bad when you're asleep."

"I will," Galahad managed to say before a yawn overtook him. His eyes slid closed slowly, while his head lolled slightly to the side.

"Sleep well, my friend," Gawain said quietly before he went out the door to join his fellow knights in celebration of the safe return of both Galahad and Lancelot.


	10. Part Nine

Lancelot was riding next to Arthur in front of the small caravan, made up by knights, Roman foot soldiers, Larcius and various carriages. Arthur had received orders to escort the son of the murdered Roman nobleman to Eburacum, from where he would be taken to Londinium, and finally back to Rome.

Suddenly Lancelot became aware of a horse and rider that were coming to ride on his left side. He was surprised to find it was Larcius. The Sarmatian felt even more confused when he witnessed the smiles that were exchanged between his commander and the young Roman, before Arthur pulled on his white stallion's reins and turned him around to inspect the rear of the caravan.

"Arthur said that I should talk with you," Larcius explained, recognizing the stunned look on the knight's face.

"Talk?" Lancelot echoed. "About what?"

"While you were gone from the fortress, I talked often with Arthur," Larcius began. "He made me see a lot of things that I never had thought about before. He made me see you and the other Sarmatians in a much clearer light. This might sound dumb, but before I came here, I never really thought about what it must mean to all of you to be dragged away from your family and your homeland, and be forced to serve Rome, all because of an agreement between Rome's leaders and your ancestors." Larcius paused briefly, and Lancelot nodded to him to encourage him to continue.

"Arthur told me about how you were taken from Sarmatia, and how you were treated when you first arrived in this country. Like dogs are used for hunting, you were used to fight Rome's battles, weren't you?" He briefly glanced at Lancelot who was listening intently. "Arthur told me about the right to be free, the right to make your own decisions. He told me about the round table, equality between men. It made me think. About Rome's ways and about the way you serve Arthur despite how Rome is forcing you to serve him. I've watched closely how Arthur and you, and the other knights as well, interact with one another. It's not about serving Rome anymore, is it? It's all about friendship now, isn't it? Maybe more even than that."

Lancelot smiled softly at Larcius. "Yes, it is. Arthur is my closest friend, and I consider all of them as my brothers. I would give my life for them."

Larcius nodded his head in understanding. "Arthur made you come alive for me. Forgive me for saying so, but at first I did think you had killed my father and mother, but now I know you never could have done something like that. There's something else Arthur said that I should tell you about."

Lancelot looked at the young Roman curiously.

"My father was a very powerful man in Rome. His family has been members of the senate for centuries." Lancelot could hear the grief in Larcius' voice. "I don't intend to keep silent about the murderer of my parents. I don't think my father's friends in Rome will be all too pleased to hear that the man who ordered his death is a Roman centurion." Larcius turned his head to face Lancelot again. "Arthur is right that the commander will never be tried for his crimes, but my father's friends should be able to arrange for him to be called back to Rome, and reduce his rank, maybe to something like foot soldier." Larcius grinned mischievously at the dark knight next to him.

Lancelot returned Larcius' grin with a bright smile, laughter shining in his eyes. He watched in surprise as Larcius drew his sword. Uncertain of what was going on, his own hand went up over his head instinctively to the hilt of one of his double blades.

"Now that I'm going back to Rome, I have no need for a sword anymore," Larcius continued. "My father only gave it to me for protection against the Woads." The sword in his hand was beautifully crafted, a piece of exquisite workmanship. "I'd guess it's about the same size and weight as your two swords are, don't you think?" He offered the sword to Lancelot.

Lancelot lowered his hand and took the sword from the young Roman, weighing it, examining it closely. "Yes, it is. It's a good sword."

"I would like you to have it," Larcius explained, his tone of voice genuine. He took the reins of his horse in both of his hands as he watched Lancelot's reaction. "And in case you ever lose another one of your own swords, then you'll at least have two left to fight with," he added, trying to suppress the laughter ringing in his voice.

Lancelot couldn't help but chuckle out loud. Larcius soon joined him

"Hey Lancey, are you sure the boy is safe with you?" Bors' boisterous voice interrupted. Suppressed laughter rose up behind Lancelot and Larcius.

Without turning around, Lancelot answered Bors. "I can promise you that you will not be safe from me this journey, Bors!" his tone threatening although laced with amusement.

The suppressed laughter increased in volume when all of them, including Arthur behind Lancelot, and Larcius next to him, laughed out loud.

Lancelot turned back to Larcius. "Thank you. I'll gladly accept the gift." He carefully sheathed the Roman sword in one of the sheaths hanging behind his saddle.

Galahad came to ride next to Lancelot on his other side. With a nod to Lancelot, Larcius held back his horse and left the two Sarmatians alone.

Galahad followed the young Roman warily with his eyes, before he focused on Lancelot. He watched the dark knight intensely, still feeling protective of the older knight. "What was that all about? Are you alright?"

Lancelot nodded slowly, internally smiling at Galahad's concern. "There might be some justice afterall," he answered as he looked over his shoulder to where Larcius was now talking with Arthur. Lancelot briefly caught Arthur's gaze, and the commander and his second in command shared a knowing smile. "It seems that Arthur is not the only decent Roman around."


End file.
